


To the Brink

by destieldearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Severely Wounded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destieldearie/pseuds/destieldearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person A convinced that Person B hates them up until the moment B shields A with their body from a fatal blow. Afterwards, a very injured–possibly dying–Person B still tries to convince Person A that they loathe them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Brink

“This doesn’t mean I like you, dearie,” he mumbled, his voice thick. He was shocked how easy the lie rolled off his tongue.

“Of course not, Mr Gold,” Belle answered soothingly, smoothing his hair back from his face and pressing her hand firmly against the wound to his chest.

“I still think you’re much too cheerful. And you always make my shop smell like that bloody flower perfume you wear. It just hangs in the air,” he continued as though he hadn’t heard her. Belle continued applying pressure to the wound and tried not to notice how his voice was growing fainter and her hands were quickly staining with blood. “And you’re short,” Mr Gold finished, slumping back into her lap. In any other circumstance, Belle would have rolled her eyes at his remark and commented on his own short stature, but with the way his face was quickly growing pale, she could only fight back tears.

Only moments before they’d been taking their tea when the intruder waltzed in, demanding to speak to a “Mr. A. Gold”

> “Shop’s closed, dearie” Mr Gold dismissed. He and the dark haired intruder argued and before Belle’s mind could register what was happening, a gun was pointed at her. The next moment, she heard the shot ring out in the quiet of the pawnshop and she felt the hard floor of the shop as Mr Gold pushed her down.  She felt her eyes start to drift closed as her head hit a resounding crack against the wood. Trying to keep consciousness, Belle heard a muffled curse and a groan break through the haze in her mind. The shrill ringing of the bell above the door had her eyes snapping open and taking in her surroundings. She was still alive and intact.
> 
> She knew she heard a gunshot and if she was still in one piece, that meant…”Mr. Gold,” she whimpered as she quickly spotted his lithe body in the middle of the floor. “No…” Belle whispered as she saw his white shirt quickly staining red. Hurrying to his broken body, she pressed her hands to the wound in his chest and cradled his head in her lap.

Sparkling porcelain, now tainted red, caught her eye as the breeze coming in through the open door began to roll the cup towards her. Belle picked up the teacup and, with the hand not trying desperately to keep Mr Gold’s blood inside his body, traced a finger around the now chipped rim.

“Your cup, it’s chipped,” Belle whispered. She felt his fingers graze the underside of her wrist.

“It’s just a cup…”  Mr Gold muttered, finally meeting her gaze. Looking into his eyes, she noticed a change; his eyes didn’t hold the harsh glint that she’d seen so often. Instead of the cold, unforgiving eyes of the town monster, Belle saw a new warmth coloring his irises. Silently rejoicing that she was  _right_ ; that there was a man underneath the persona he played, she wondered if this meant that he cared for her.

“Why did you save me?” she whispered. He couldn’t die if she kept him talking. He just had to hold on until the ambulance arrived. He had to survive now that there was a glimmer of hope that he might care for her. She couldn’t lose him; not now. He had to live. He had to.

> Every day for the past year, Belle had gone to Mr Gold’s pawnshop on her lunch. Every day they’d discuss literature and the world beyond Storybrooke while they took tea and, on one occasion, ate hamburgers. Although he staunchly refused when she’d called him “friend” and he took every opportunity to insult her, Belle still willingly walked into the monster’s lair every day at noon with a take out bag from Granny’s in hand. Beneath Mr Gold’s biting remarks and caustic observations, she could see the man behind the monster he portrayed himself to be. Beneath his many layers, Belle could see the good man she believed he truly was. He was a mystery to be uncovered and when she pictured the rest of her life, she imagined someone like Mr Gold beside her. She could see herself falling in love with him; perhaps she already had.

A bloody cough brought her back from her musings. “Well, it certainly isn’t because I wanted an up close look at how filthy this floor is. I really oughta’ fire tha’ girl. What’s her name? Margie? Verna?” Mr Gold muttered, his accent growing thicker as his eyes started to close.

“Ashley. Ashley is your cleaning lady,” Belle interrupted and gave him a gentle shake to keep him awake. “Stay with me, Mr Gold. The ambulance will be here soon,” _What was taking so damn long?_

“Tell me about this date you’re going to take me once we get you stitched up,” she prompted.

“I don’t even _like_ you, Miss French,” he said, affronted.

“Of course, but just  _pretend_. What if, say, I cared for you and would like to have dinner with you?”

“Well, first I’d ask you to have your head examined,” he quipped. Belle giggled and resumed carding her fingers through his hair. He had to fight to keep from nuzzling into her touch as he easily supplied a fantasy involving a wonderful dinner at Marco’s, Storybrooke’s only upscale eatery, and perhaps a walk along the pier, if his leg was feeling up to it. The fantasy was easy to fall into, as he’d done many days after their lunches. Darling Belle French, who most days seemed to be his own personal ray of sunshine, brightening his dusty shop and bringing light back into his life; light that had been snuffed out the day he put his son in the cold, Maine ground.

That was why he’d pushed her to the floor and stepped between her and the bullet. The world could carry on without him, but the Earth would surely stop spinning if Belle French was no longer among its inhabitants. Nobody would miss him; some of the townspeople may even rejoice when the news reached them, but Belle? No, Belle was soft and good while he was darkness and sharp edges. She was  _perfect_.

Oh, he loved her. Looking back, he’d fallen in love with her the day she’d all but pranced into his dark and lonely world. She truly was a flicker of light amidst the ocean of darkness his life had become since Bae had died. She didn’t know about Bae. She didn’t know he was dead; dead on impact when a drunk driver hit his car while he was picking him up from his ex-wife’s house. Bae had died and he’d walked away with a crippled leg and the loss and guilt that came with losing a child. She didn’t know he was a murderer; that he truly was every bit the monster Storybrooke said he was. He’d tell her as soon as he could work through the fog in his mind.  _Why was thinking becoming so hard?_

“That sounds absolutely lovely, Mr Gold. I’d love to do that, when you feel better of course,” Gold heard Belle say, although her voice sounded farther away than it had a few moments ago. So this was dying? The pain in his chest was growing unbearable now, but with Belle near, suddenly, dying didn’t seem so bad. Gold felt like he was slowly floating away from his body; trapped between worlds as he desperately tried to move towards his sons’ open and waiting arms. Something was keeping him tied to this Earth as visions of a life with Belle danced before his eyes. They’d be married; a small, backyard ceremony with her friends in attendance. Then, there’d be a child; a precious and perfect baby girl. Lost in his fantasy, he didn’t feel the ambulance crew hoist him onto a stretcher, but he did feel himself reaching for Belle’s hand and whispering “This still doesn’t mean I like you,” as they strapped an oxygen mask to his face. His eyes closed before he saw her watery smile.


End file.
